Resolutions
by KayLee66
Summary: A follow up to Risk Assessment, and my first story here. After talking to Buzz, Rusty needs more answers. They reveal more than he could have ever expected. Buzz/Rusty friendship.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first story for MC. I've loved the whole series, but the episode that really affected me was Risk Assessment from season two. Buzz is my favourite character, and watching him reveal what had happened to his father and uncle made such an impact on me. Like Rusty, I just didn't see it coming.

It happened at the end of the episode, too, so there was no time to see its aftermath. And I certainly can't remember it being mentioned again. So with a bit of extra backstory, which I hope fits in with his established background, I've written this four part story on how Buzz might have reacted to remembering how his father and uncle were killed.

I also hope you like this first chapter, and if I've got any part of Buzz's background wrong here, I'd really appreciate any pointers to put them right.

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Resolutions

Chapter One

There was a knack to raising teenagers. With two, happily balanced kids under her belt, Sharon liked to think she'd done a pretty good job. And while Rusty was still a constant challenge, she still knew how to deal with this latest, brooding silence. Subtly watching him over her paper, she sat quietly, and waited for him to end it.

"Sharon, do you... I - I mean, has Buzz ever told you why he joined the police?"

Well, there was a pitch that would have those scouts at the Dodgers scrambling for their check books. It also explained the sudden interest in why she'd made her own choice of career. All those questions from yesterday, from a kid whose world so often revolved solely around himself, and so rarely around anyone else.

For her, it had been a simple decision. For Buzz, though, that choice had come from a life-changing tragedy. Very few people knew it, too, so for Rusty to be asking about it now... yes, Sharon knew she had to tread carefully here, and test the waters. Just keep it brief, nicely casual, and see how much he knew.

"Yes, Rusty, I do."

The rest came through more silence. The kind of smile that only a mother could use to coax a troubled teen into opening up. A few more steers of cereal later, it started to work.

"We were talking yesterday, because... well, Buzz said we should... _I_ should, you know, get to know you all better... be more interested in what you do, and... you know, why you do it."

The smile grew, joined by a nod of proud approval. Yes, that explained even more. Guiding mentor had spoken. And, it seemed, pupil hadn't just listened, he'd followed through on it too. She just hoped that Buzz wouldn't come to regret it.

"So you know about his dad? And his uncle, what... what happened to them?"

Well, now - he knew the whole thing? Interesting. And with waters now tested to her satisfaction, Sharon knew she could take the full plunge into them.

"Yes, Rusty, I know they were both murdered when Buzz was very young... and like all unsolved murders, their file is still open..."

Just one of countless other cold cases, that she would dearly love to solve. One of so many acts of senseless violence, that had shattered Buzz Watson's life. And, it seemed, now struck a real chord with her adoptive son.

"Yeah, he was just a kid when it happened... even younger than me, when I..."

Reaching that all too familiar blight on his life, Rusty stopped dead in his tracks. No, he was on a new road now, where that past life of shame and degradation could no longer haunt him.

Instead he turned his thoughts back to another's. That of his once reluctant babysitter's, whose relationship with him was now changing into something he couldn't quite identify. Not just friendship, but like that of an older, wiser, ever patient brother. Someone whose unthinkable tragedy was bringing his own troubled past into a whole new perspective.

When Buzz had chastised him in that hallway, it hadn't made him sulk. It had made him think. Made him _care_ about such an opinion, and wonder why it suddenly mattered. With everything he'd learned yesterday, he now felt it even more. And the only way he could start to understand it was to ask more questions.

Not to Buzz, though. No, that would only dredge up more memories, that he'd surely wish had stayed buried. Another of those concerns for others, that had suddenly started to matter.

Luckily, the next best person to ask was right in front of him. Not just his adoptive mother, but a woman who could help him understand the very worst of crimes. How such acts of violence could shatter lives in the space of a heartbeat, and affect the innocent victims they left behind.

"God, it must have been awful for him, to lose his dad like that, and his uncle too, and... Sharon, how can you... how can _he_... live with something like that?"

Another good question, that deserved every bit of her attention. Putting her paper down, Sharon thought for a moment - considering the question that would take every part of a mother's compassion and experience to answer.

"Well, I'd imagine you'd need to do as Buzz has done, and turn your grief and anger into something constructive. For him, it was to join the police, and find a role within it to help those affected by such an awful crime themselves... to find the evidence that will bring their killers to justice..."

It was good to see Rusty nodding, taking in what she'd just said. A returning frown told her how seriously he was taking it, while quiet words revealed the first, most difficult barrier that Buzz had needed to overcome.

"...even if your mom doesn't want you to... that's why he went through film school, instead of the Academy, because... well, if anything happens to him, there'll be no-one left to look after her."

She knew that already too, of course. It was why the rest of her team ensured his safety at every single crime scene - only letting him near it when all possible threats had either been identified or eliminated, and sending him safely out of the way if just a hint of one arose.

A personal promise, from one mother to another. One she'd do all in her power to keep.

For Rusty, though, it was still a revelation, that had left him both surprised and - what? Guilty at his own self centredness? No, maybe guilty was too strong a term, more like... impressed, maybe? Or humbled? Inspired by such courage that he'd learn to show himself, to face whatever challenges this SIS operation would pose for him?

Yes, that was it. To show such courage after such tragedy was a real inspiration, that he could certainly learn from. From this new resolve, though, came yet another question.

"He isn't even bitter about it, is he? I mean, he goes out to all these crime scenes, that must remind him of what happened to his dad and uncle, but he never lets any of it show... you'd never think he'd gone through something so awful, he's just... you know, _Buzz_."

Smiling now, at how he'd react to that, Sharon nodded again. In a squad of such strong personalities, Buzz Watson certainly wasn't the loudest member of her team, but what he _did_ have to say - well, more often than not, even Provenza would sit up and take notice. On a _really_ good day, he'd even take him seriously.

More to the point, she also knew this was one question that she couldn't answer - hence the quiet reminder for him to consider the only person who could.

"Well, that's something only Buzz can tell you... but only if _he_ wants to..."

Another nod was another good sign. Much better than the ' _well_ , _duh_!' expression that she'd expected, and fully deserving the proud smile that followed.

Yes, this often self-centred child now had an awful lot to think about. From clearing away their dishes to driving them in, Sharon left him to it - because if yesterday's events had surprised him, then the full story behind them was going to shock him even more.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second chapter, where Rusty starts to learn more about Buzz's past, and how his father's death affected him. I hope you enjoy it.

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Resolutions

Chapter Two

The Crazy Gang, as he'd once called them, were already in. Glancing towards Buzz's desk, Rusty was almost relieved that its chair was empty. If he wasn't out here with the others, he'd be in the Media Room. So yes, this was good. At least there, they could talk more in private, with less chance of being disturbed.

First, though, he'd start acting on another part of yesterday's advice. Something nice and simple, before he had to face the more serious.

"Good morning, Lieutenants..."

"...hey, Julio... new shirt, right?"

"...and Amy? Nice hairband."

Leaving a line of startled glances in his wake, he then headed on into the Media Room. Finding it empty, he frowned. Buzz was always in by now, and - ah. Yeah, that explained it. A blank screen, two legs jutting out from under his desk - and the sound of their civilian technician at war with his technology.

"...damn cables, it's like spaghetti down here, and... right, let's see if _this_ works..."

Thankfully it did, since the monitor in front of him blinked into life. And since he could see what Buzz couldn't, this seemed the perfect time to show just how useful and helpful he could be.

"Yeah, Buzz, that's got it."

A thump and muffled _'damn it_!' suggested such helpfulness hadn't been so helpful. The glare on Buzz's face as he crawled back into view suggested it too. Rusty just hoped a sheepish grin didn't make a mockery of a genuine apology.

"Sorry."

Still shaking out his hand, Buzz just shrugged as he settled back into his chair, and started to check through his monitors.

"That's okay, it's not the first time I've been zapped... and I doubt it'll be the last."

There was another story in there somewhere, but its intrigue would have to wait. Right now, Rusty had more serious matters in mind than rebellious technology. From the way he watched him as he continued to hover by the door behind them, Buzz knew it too.

No sign of the _'beat it, kid'_ look that he was so used to, though. However exasperated he became with him, Buzz would never resort to that. If anything, he was almost smiling, as if he knew already why he was there.

Taking this as a sign to stay, Rusty settled into the chair alongside - waiting for him to finish sorting out his latest recordings, before venturing the first of so many questions.

"Hey, Buzz, can I... uh... ask you something? You know, about... what you told me yesterday?"

If ruefully, the smile grew a bit wider, while a nod silently joined it. Well, he'd been the one who'd opened this closet of skeletons. Kinda late now, to try and shove them all back inside.

With so many questions to ask, though, Rusty had no idea where to start. And such awkward uncertainty made Sharon's advice unexpectedly hard to follow.

"I - I mean, you were so young when it happened, and... well, if you hadn't told me, I'd have never guessed you'd gone through something so awful. I - I mean, you're so _calm_ about everything, and... God, if anything like that had happened to me, I'd have been a basket case."

Around ten seconds too late, Rusty realized his mouth was now full of proverbial foot. So it was as much a surprise as it was relief when Buzz just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it was a long time ago. And while I didn't appreciate it at the time... yes, there's two, still _very_ special friends out there who made sure that didn't happen."

Now it was Rusty's turn to face the mother of curveballs. And if that pitch had been real, it would have gone straight down his throat. For Buzz, it drew out another smile that coaxed out another, hesitant question.

"So you went to them for therapy? Like I've got to do with Dr Joe?"

The surprise he'd kept out of his voice must have been betrayed itself on his face, since... yeah, there it was again. That same disappointment he'd seen yesterday, and - whoa!

"You think that's a bad thing? You still see these sessions as some kind of stigma, against people who are just trying to help you?"

Strike two. And Rusty was so distracted in trying to respond to it that he almost missed the third.

"People who think that way still see therapy as a sign of weakness. Something to be ashamed of, when, in fact, it's a greater weakness to try and kid yourself that you _don't_ need it."

Intentionally or otherwise, Buzz realized he'd slipped a bit too far into 'lecture mode'. It took several moments of awkward silence to pull himself out of it. And a few more beyond them to admit the other scenario that, he hoped, Rusty had worked out for himself.

"Yeah, Rusty, I used to think that way too. Back then, _any_ kind of therapy was a much greater stigma than it is today. For months after it happened, I was too consumed by grief and anger to recognize how badly I needed it. And if I hadn't gone to that first session, and realized how much I needed them, then... well, yes, the chances are I'd have spiralled into a life where _no-one_ could have helped me."

Damn. Back in 'lecture mode' again. But however he'd made his point, subtly or otherwise, Rusty had taken every part of it with all the respect it deserved. And while glad to see him taking yesterday's so seriously too - God, he could kill a cup of coffee right now.

Easier said than done, of course - especially in here. Yeah, which genius had brought in that _'No Beverages'_ sign to protect all his precious equipment, and insisted that _everyone_ stuck to it? Oh, yeah - that would be him.

Luckily, this new understanding between them seemed to connect their minds too, since it was Rusty who now turned wishful thoughts into do-able reality.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that too. I mean, I'm starting to realize how Dr Joe's trying to help me, and... hey, you want to get a drink, or... something? My treat?"

Recognizing this offer for what it was, Buzz nodded - accepting it with a grateful smile as they left the Media Room. And if they'd glanced behind them, they'd have seen another of proud approval, following them all the way.


	3. Chapter 3

Here's chapter three, where Rusty learns the full story behind what happened to Buzz's father and uncle. Again, these are just my thoughts on what was mentioned in the episode. There's also a reference to Homewrecker, the first episode in season three of The Closer, where we see Buzz at a crime scene for the first time.

I hope you like it.

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Resolutions

Chapter Three

In hindsight, the break room wasn't the best place to continue such a deep discussion. Its chairs were rock hard, its coffee barely qualified as anything like it. And, as usual, its TV was on the fritz. But, just for now, it was where Buzz and Rusty were happy to be. Helped along by the best caffeine the vendor could offer, and a few Hersheys for good measure, they were making a world of painful memories just that little bit easier to face.

For Rusty, too, more of what Buzz had told him the previous day was starting to make more sense.

'... _now here I am, directing an important movie every day of the week... helping rescue those we can... maybe rescuing ourselves a little, if we're totally honest about it_.'

Because - yes. In this often crazy world of police officers and prosecutors, Buzz Watson was one of the most honest people he'd ever met. One of the bravest, too. Far from shying away from the horror of his father's murder, he'd faced it, full on. Found both pride and comfort in his chosen career. so that some form of good could come out of its tragedy.

All part of that 'self-rescue' that he'd mentioned before? The strength he'd gained from those sessions in therapy, now used to bring justice and closure to so many others?

Yes, more than likely. And could it also explain how he could go out to all these crime scenes now, and record their crucial evidence without anyone knowing how much it must hurt him?

More questions, that were now linking in to what he'd asked Sharon earlier. How could anyone who'd lost their father to such an act of brutal violence see so many others, day after day after day, and not let it affect him?

He must have asked that last part aloud, since Buzz was now staring at him, with shadows in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Then they dropped away, so missing the mortification on Rusty's face. Instead, they stayed down, focussing onto the ring on his hand.

So many memories lay behind his reasons for wearing it. None of them were easy for him to remember. And for the first time in, perhaps, too long a time, he was having to face them. _Really_ face them.

Well, he was a big boy now. He could handle it - right? He'd done it for all these years. Surely he could manage it now.

Was he ready, though, to share this most private part of himself? No, not quite. Not yet. Instead, he rubbed his sleeve over that band of sacred gold - sadly reminding himself that something so special, so cherished, deserved better. So, then - a quick call into the SevenEleven tonight, before he called in to check on mom.

More immediately, he had yet another question to answer, and... damn, what had it been again? Oh, yeah - crime scenes, and how he managed to handle them.

"If I'm as honest as I need to be here, Rusty, then... yes... yes, it _does_ affect me. Yes, it _is_ hard. The first scene I went to, out in the field, was a family homicide... the mother, father, and daughter, all stabbed to death. God, there was blood everywhere, and... yeah, Rusty, I nearly lost it. And the first shooting I went to, that... yeah, that was even worse, it.. just brought all of it back."

Stunned by what he'd just heard, Rusty started to reach across the table. Then his hand drew back again, pulled back by fresh uncertainty. This new consideration for others was compelling him to offer comfort. He just didn't know how, or even if Buzz was willing to let him. Instead, he waited for him to finish his coffee. Waited for him to make the next move.

"And if you're wondering if I had nightmares afterwards, then... yes... then and now, Rusty... yes, I still get them."

The next silence stretched on for longer this time. In awkward unease for one, in silent hell for the other.

If just through his memories, Buzz could still see it all so clearly. Inside his mind, he was eleven years old again. A happily innocent boy, sitting in the back of his father's car - surrounded by all the game day treats that a doting father and uncle could buy.

The excitement of one last treat, his favourite pizza to celebrate their latest win. His father's laughter as he headed towards an ATM to get the money to pay for it. The horror of what happened next.

Shots. Screams. Yells for help. Blinding lights, and deafening sirens, that had left him cowering on the floor of his father's car - too terrified and traumatized to move.

Voices. Soft, kind, and so very gentle voices - all trying to entice him out of it.

 _"Hey, buddy, you okay?"_

 _"That 'Buzz' on your jersey there, is that your name?"_

It was a lady's voice, though. Soft and quiet, just like his mother's, that had finally coaxed him into her arms.

 _"You want to come with me, Buzz? Come with me, where you can be nice and safe?"_

Voices that changed from those of adults to one much younger. Just one voice now, conveying all the horror of that awful night.

"Buzz? Hey, are you okay? Are you sure you're okay to talk about this, and... oh, God... oh, my God! You - You saw it, didn't you? You saw it all happen!"

Still frozen inside his own mind, Buzz stared back at him. Took the deep breath that he suddenly needed, and several more, before re-living the moments that had shattered his life.

"Yes, Rusty, I saw it... from the back of my dad's car, I saw the whole thing."

There. He'd said it. Remembered it. Faced the most terrifying minutes of his life. And from that admission, all that effort to convince himself that he could handle it started to crumble.

Anger, and grief, and God knew how many other emotions, started to well up in his eyes. Emotions that he hadn't felt in such a long time, maybe too long a time, threatened to overwhelm him.

Closing his eyes, Buzz gave into them. Lowered his head into his hands, and whispered the same apology that he'd sobbed and screamed onto that lady officer's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Dad... I'm so sorry."

Back then, the hand that had squeezed his shoulder had belonged to a grizzled old cop, who'd been scarily like Louie Provenza. Now, that grip on his arm came from a much younger hand. All awkward uncertainties cast aside by simple, instinctive humanity as Rusty crouched at his side, and tried to offer him comfort.

"God, Buzz, I'm sorry too... I am so, so sorry..."

What else could he say? However sincerely he tried, what could he possibly say now, to take all this back again? And what the hell should he do now?

In the end, that decision was taken away from him, because Buzz's head now lifted itself out of his hands. And while tears still shone in his eyes, there was an even greater understanding beyond them. To Rusty's amazement, he was even trying to smile through the same reassurance.

"Yeah, Rusty, I - I know... I know you are, but... look, I was the one who told you to take more interest in our lives, and our reasons for being here. I can hardly blame you for that, now, can I?"

He'd tried so hard to sound convincing, but - no. No, he couldn't quite manage it. And maybe it was the coffee, or re-living those scenes of carnage, or the sight of several officers peering curiously in at them, but suddenly the break room was the last place that Buzz wanted to be.

No, he needed to be in more familiar surroundings. The one place in this building where he felt truly at home. And, just this once, surely one cup of half drunk coffee wouldn't do any harm?

Watching him rise from his chair, Rusty stepped instinctively backwards. He had no idea, now, if Buzz still wanted him around, or if he'd prefer to be alone. Even when he paused in the doorway to glance back at him, it took several moments for him to catch the hint, grab a few more Hershey bars, and follow him out.

Again, they were subtly followed by ever watchful eyes. Unseen by one, but acknowledged just as discreetly by another, before he closed the door behind him. Returning it with an approving smile, Sharon turned back to her reports. After all these months of his needs and welfare taking centre stage - yes, it was high time that Rusty started paying it back.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, this is the last chapter for this story. It includes two more references to The Closer, from two of my favourite 'Buzz moments.'

Thanks so much to Deerefan, for your comments and reviews. For a first time writer here, they've been really appreciated!

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Resolutions

Chapter Four

Sanctuaries came in many forms. For Buzz, it was the monitors that now surrounded him, like a blanket of screens and cables. Calming his thoughts, soothing his pain. Closing ranks around him while he sat, lost in his thoughts while he finished his coffee.

He'd clearly made the better choice of it, too, since his eyes were starting to clear. To Rusty's surprise, there was even a spark of amusement there, as he nodded towards the sign in front of him.

"Hey, not a word to the others, okay? If they catch us with these in here, I'll never hear the end of it."

Glancing at his own drink, Rusty grinned back. What, such subterfuge from the world's biggest boy scout? Well, okay. If it meant the kind that two brothers might commit against their peers, then that was fine with him. And just to seal this pledge between them, both cup and can were quickly emptied, tossed into the trash, and its liner tied down around them.

So, then - none of the others would be any the wiser. Their secret was safe. And the thought that he'd somehow gained the best big brother in the world - yeah, that was fine with him too.

But then more sobering thoughts pulled the smile from Rusty's face. Despite following all of Sharon's advice, he'd caused pain to a friend who could never deserve it. So now, he just sat quietly, giving that friend the peace to heal. Watching him smile down at the ring on his hand, running his fingers over its surface.

To him, it was just a band of silvery metal. A typically modest piece of jewellery, that he'd always seen him wear. Today, though, it seemed to hold a far greater significance. And maybe it was from spending so much time with all these detectives, but - yes, he'd put two and together himself, long before a quiet voice confirmed it.

"By the grace of God, they missed this... his wedding band. Maybe they thought it was silver, and not worth the effort of stealing. Or maybe they ran off before the police arrived, before they had the chance to take it."

All supposition, of course, for what had really happened that night. But the more he thought about it, the less it seemed to matter. However it had survived to come to him, it was the only physical link with his father that he had left. Along with his memories, it would last him a lifetime. Give him something to live _for_.

Taking it off so that he could read its inscription, he then smiled once more - passing it across to Rusty, so he could read it too while he made his next point.

"You asked me how I can go to all these crimes scenes, and not let what happened to my father and uncle affect me. Well, like I said before, Rusty, it does. Even though years of counselling, and my crime scene training at the Academy, has taught me not to show it, every one of them affects me, just as they affect every officer who works here. And I'm sure if I went into Dr Joe one day, and told him it didn't..."

"...then he'd tell you that was the day to quit. Because it would mean you'd lost your reason to do it," Rusty finished for him, returning a proud smile with one of equal admiration as Buzz took his ring back again, and slid it back onto his hand.

"Exactly. And yes, I've seen the very worst of human nature... the depths of brutality that people can sink to... but I've also seen it at its best... those people out there put their lives on the line to protect me at every crime scene... you from the likes of Phillip Stroh... and the Captain, too, for everything she does to get these killers convicted. So for every day that I can give my best too, using my knowledge to get them off the streets, then... yeah, I hope that day when I hang up my camera doesn't come for a _very_ long time."

Settling back into his chair, Buzz glanced down at his stomach. Maybe it was the coffee, or sharing all these memories, but suddenly he felt hungry. Really hungry. Leaning forward again, he reached for the last Hershey bar that Rusty had brought from the break room. Cookies and cream - his all time favourite. Unfortunately, it was Rusty's too, and he'd reached for it at the same time. Still, there was an easy enough solution for the almost comical stand-off that followed. As two grins confirmed, nothing sealed the bonds of friendship like sharing your last bar of Hersheys.

The same went for more serious matters too, of course. For Buzz, it was the choice he'd made that had defined such a crucial part of his life - and the chain of events that had led him to make it.

"So, now you know the how, and the why. If I can't solve my father's murder, or my uncle's, the next best thing I can do is everything I can to solve someone else's. Like I said yesterday, it's the way I've found to save those I can from what I had to go through. And, through that, maybe save a bit of myself too."

From the way Rusty sat watching him, Buzz knew he'd made his point. No harm, though, in nudging it gently home. To fully reveal one of his deepest, darkest secrets.

"For months afterwards, Rusty, I blamed myself for what happened that night. If my father hadn't bought me all that stuff at the game, he wouldn't have needed to stop at that ATM, and he and my uncle wouldn't have died. And that guilt turned to an anger so deep, so overwhelming, that it just took me over. Turned shy, sweet little Buzzie Watson into the kid from hell."

Focussed completely on what he was hearing, Rusty almost had to pinch himself to believe it. Mr Sane And Sensible himself, acting more like the brat that _he'd_ once been? Could still be, sometimes. And - _Buzzie_?

Another story, for a more appropriate time. Right now, he had another question to ask - with all the respect that it, and Buzz, deserved.

"Was, uh... was that why you needed therapy?"

As soon as he'd asked it, Rusty knew he hadn't needed to. The answer had been written on Buzz's face, and through the regret in his eyes. So it was a real relief when Buzz nodded, and cast him another of his warm, wise smiles. The kind that could reach a confused, angry young boy, and start to teach him how to let that anger go.

"Yes, Rusty, it was. It took months of it, too, before I realized how self destructive that anger could be. How badly it was affecting me. And when my mother begged me not to join the Academy, and I thought she was stopping me from doing what I'd set my heart to do... well, I got pretty angry then too. I could have made any number of "what-the-hell-was-I-thinking?" decisions. I could have left home, even though I had nowhere else to go. Or stayed, and lashed out in ways that I'd have regretted for the rest of my life. Maybe even followed my childhood dream, and joined the Air Force, but... well, luckily I was old enough by then to realize why she was so scared about losing me, and pull myself out of it."

Again, Rusty's eyebrows vanished into his fringe. Well, if that hadn't come straight of left field. Not so much the whole leaving home thing, or the resentful anger that Buzz had just described. God knew, he could relate to that, to all of that... but that second bit? Buzz Watson, flying a _plane_? No way!

"You wanted to be a _pilot_?"

Okay, so a bit less disbelief wouldn't have hurt. Beyond the chastising glare, though, came another broadening grin.

"Yeah, when I was about six, and my uncle took me to meet the rest of his old unit. By the time I got home, I'd forgotten all about that, and wanted to be an astronaut."

If not for knowing him so well, Rusty would swear blind that Buzz was teasing him. From flying a plane to outer space? Yeah, right. But as yesterday, and today, had shown him, he didn't know his friend half as well as he thought he did. No, from his background to his name, Buzz Watson was just one puzzling surprise after another. Still, there was enough of a clue to this one for him to do its historical math, and come up with the right answer.

"Hey, like Buzz Aldrin! That's how you got that name too, right?"

From the quiet laughter beside him - okay, maybe not.

"Well, no. I've been called 'Buzz' since I was four, and... well, let's just say I learned at a real young age that you _don't_ poke your finger into a socket while the power's on."

Ah, yes. Another revelation, that he'd no doubt come to regret. Still, at least its first witness had seen it happen already. And after everything else that he'd shared through the morning... God, yes, he needed something to laugh at, even if it was at his own expense.

Reminded again of how such innocence could end so quickly, the smile faded. Not from the exasperation that Rusty had dreaded, but the responsibilities that had suddenly been thrust onto painfully young shoulders.

"But to go back to your question, going to therapy was one of the hardest, scariest, but best things I've ever done. It didn't just help me learn to live with all my guilt and anger, it made me a better person too. Made me remember that I wasn't the only one who was grieving their loss. When my dad and uncle were killed, I had my mom, and my little sister to consider. At eleven years old, I was suddenly head of the house, and... yeah, I had to put everything I was going through myself aside, and... well, just bring us all through it, as best I could."

As he'd hoped, Rusty had listened through every word without any kind of interruption. His reaction, though, wasn't just unexpected, it took that approval to a whole new level.

"Well, for what it's worth, Buzz, you did a hell of a job. For you to have come through all this, and still give so much of yourself to others, it's... well, just incredible."

He'd meant it, too. Every word of this recognition that, just twenty four hours ago, he wouldn't have thought to consider. And even if Buzz didn't react to it in words, the pride in his eyes said everything for how much it meant to him.

Yes, he'd had to share memories, that he hadn't faced for an awful long time, but this was the moment that made it all worthwhile. The self centred boy from the previous day had learned its lesson - and was clearly determined to put what he'd learned into practice.

"So aside from me and Sharon, does, uh... anyone else know about your dad? I mean, do _they_ know?"

Glancing through the blinds into the squad room beyond, Buzz smiled through another, much happier memory, and shook his head.

"No, Rusty, they don't. Oh, they know he died when my sister and I were very young, and that I joined the police because I wanted to use my degree to help solve crimes, but... no, only you and the Captain know the full story."

Relaxing again, Rusty nodded. Well, that was good. At least now he wouldn't go putting his tactless foot in it. Yet Rusty still felt he had to say more, to reflect the trust that Buzz had placed in him.

"Well, uh, thanks for telling me. I - I know it hasn't been easy, with remembering it all, and... you _will_ be okay with all this. Right?"

Now it was Buzz's turn to stare, then to smile. He was six foot tall, and heading towards his fortieth birthday. Too tall, and too old, to be worried about like this, but... well, it was the thought that counted. And when that thought came from Rusty Beck - yeah, it counted for one hell of a lot.

"Yes, Rusty, I'll be fine. Sometimes, it's good to remember the bad times in your life. It reminds you that you've come through them. That you've still strong enough to live with them. So yes, I'll be just fine, and... thanks... thank _you_ for caring enough to ask."

Reminded again on what had started all this in the first place, Buzz grinned. After such a touching show of concern for his welfare, it was only right for him to return it.

"So, time to practise what I was preaching yesterday, and find out how _you're_ doing with getting this SIS approval. I mean, it's one hell of a thing to take on, and I know it's something you really want to do."

Thrown on the biggest loop yet, Rusty recovered from it with the speed and maturity that would make any kind of mentor smile.

"Well, Sharon said it would take a while to get it all set up, so she thought it would be good for me to come in here again, and... you know, just hang out with you."

Ah, the kind of kid brother hint that big brothers everywhere would instantly recognize. And while Buzz still wasn't sure how he'd gained _this_ little brother - well, he wasn't about to argue.

Glancing down at the boxes beside him, the grin widened. Yes, if Rusty wanted to do a bit more quality bonding, that was fine with him. With no call outs so far, and this little heart-to-heart now drawing to a close, he'd chosen the perfect morning to do it.

"Oh, good. In that case, you can help me catalog these old case tapes."

Busted! And, God, if that reaction didn't beg to be caught on camera. But as its brightening grin suggested, such a toe curling task still had its high points.

"Yeah, there's stuff in here that's as old as Lieutenant Provenza."

Oops. In this more relaxed mood between them, he'd crossed another line of respect for his elders. A brotherly glare told him to step right back over it. If not for the twinkle in Buzz's eyes, he might have taken it more seriously.

"Well, if you find any in there with him and John Wilkes Booth, let me know. I've been trying to find that one for _ages_."

By the time he'd finished relating that little gem, Rusty was laughing as much as he was. They were still grinning when they reached his desk, each settling in to sort through their respective boxes. And hard as he tried to scold him for it, Rusty's mutter of 'Provenza-saurus' still left them both in fits of laughter.

Thankfully oblivious to its cause, Provenza just sighed and returned to his crossword, while Flynn, Amy, Sanchez and Tao grinned through their own conclusions.

Unseen by anyone else, two other pairs of eyes met through a smile of professional pride, and more private, lifelong gratitude. Past and present came together, in silent resolution.

The traumatized boy, and his 'Officer Sharon.'

The crime scene recorder, and his Captain.


End file.
